


A Touch of Mink

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair and fur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Mink

Previously posted to the Senad Obsenad Race. 

* * *

Detective Jim Ellison pulled his truck up in front of the First National Bank Building on Eighteenth Street. He waited just a few minutes before his partner, Detective Blair Sandburg, came into view. Blair opened the passenger's door and hopped in. 

"Hey, man, thanks for picking me up. My car should be fixed by tomorrow." Blair gave Jim a grateful grin. 

"You're welcome." Jim glanced quickly over at Blair before pulling out into traffic. He noticed the brown paper bag in his partner's hand. Blair saw him looking at the item. He slid the bag from his left hand to his right, away from Jim. 

"Blair, what are you hiding?" Jim was curious. Blair shoved the brown paper sack into his coat, and buttoned it up. He patted the bulge under his jacket almost lovingly. 

Blair looked at his partner, blue eyes wide and innocent. "Nothing." 

Jim snorted. "Yeah, right. Nothing. You act like you just hit a convenience store the way you're hiding that bag." 

He sent his sense of smell over Blair, trying to figure out what his friend has hiding. Unfortunately, these days, Blair's scent usually distracted him somehow. Hell with somehow, he knew exactly how. He sifted through the Blair smells, stopping a second to enjoy the myriad of fragrances wafting from his partner, and honed in on the paper sack. While he could smell the paper, the contents had a strange odor. What was it? It seemed like a...no, couldn't be that. Not something Blair would have. He must be mistaken. He tried again. It smelled exotic, different... Suddenly, the sound of a car horn honking next to Jim snapped him from his almost zone out. Zoning while driving was not a good thing, so he put the cataloging of the smell to the back of his mind, for now. 

"Jim, you want me to drive?" Blair asked solicitously. 

"No, I don't want you to drive. And if you had just told me what I wanted to know, I wouldn't have almost caused an accident in the first place." Jim snarled at Blair. 

Blair was in too good a mood to let Jim's tone bother him. In fact, this is exactly what he wanted to happen. No, not Jim almost getting into an accident. Jim driving himself crazy trying to figure out what Blair was up to. Blair smiled to himself. Good. Give Jim something to keep his mind occupied for a while. Blair could be downright evil sometimes. 

Well, things don't always go as planned. Jim's cell phone rang, cutting off each man's private reverie. 

"Ellison." He listened. "Right, Captain. We're on our way." He flipped off the phone, and hit the truck's flashing lights. "We got a robbery in progress. Highway Express Truck Stop over on Daytona." 

That took care of the next five or six hours. By the time they arrived at the truck stop, assessed the situation, called for back up, apprehended the robber on his way to his vehicle, got him to the station to be booked, wrote a report, and drank five or six cups of coffee each, they didn't hit the loft until 2:30 a.m. At 2:35, they were undressed and sound asleep in their bed. Oh, yeah, it used to be just Jim's bed, but now it was theirs. Had been for about 5 or 6 months now, and counting. Make that 2:36 for Blair. He needed a minute to hide that bag. 

Morning came too fast. Work beckoned. Blair and Jim showered, dressed, ate and hit the streets by 9:00, both forgetting about the crumpled brown bag. For now. 

Things just weren't going their way this week. The next two or three nights, they made it home way after midnight. And, as usual, were exhausted. It was a very good thing that they had three whole days' off, or both would have been in the mood for shooting the Captain. Since Captain Banks, being a smart man, saw the exhaustion in his detectives' eyes, he knew they desperately needed some down time. They certainly didn't argue about that. 

Anyway, back to the loft finally, and in the upstairs bedroom, the next morning, (or was it afternoon?), Jim remembered the brown bag. Why he suddenly thought about it, he had no idea. So he casually asked Blair about it. Again, Blair told him it was nothing. Jim glared at him and took a couple of menacing steps towards him, while Blair backed up, meeting Jim's advance with an equal retreat. Jim had just been mildly curious. 

Now he was curiosity-killed-the-cat curious; or rather, the panther curious. The scent rising from Blair and washing over Jim was pure pheromones. Whatever Blair had going on in his way too smart-for-his-own-good brain was making him interested. Now Jim was over-the-edge panther curious, and Blair's scent of arousal was going right to his brain, among other things. 

Blair took one look at Jim's determined face, and decided now might be a good time to come clean. Blair valued his own life, after all. And baiting a panther was definitely a dangerous business. But Blair wasn't going to actually tell Jim what was in the bag. No way. That would spoil all the fun. 

Blair smiled at Jim. "Okay, you win. But first you have to lay down on the bed, and close your eyes." 

Jim eyed his lover closely. "I'll lay down, but I'm not closing my eyes." 

"Come on, Jim, be a sport. Close your eyes, and let me do this." 

"No way. I am not closing my eyes." 

"Jim, you are such a baby. Come on. Please!" Blair cajoled as he gave Jim one of those sweet smiles that melted Jim's innards, even though he would never tell Blair that fact. Of course, he relented. Besides, what could Blair possibly do to him? So he agreed. And was he happy that he did. Smart man, Jim Ellison. 

"Great!" Blair exclaimed. "Keep your eyes closed. I need just a second. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, you have to be naked." 

"What?" 

"Jim, naked. You know, the absence of clothing." 

"Chief, with your smart mouth, this had better be worth it." 

Blair grinned like a fool as he opened the dresser, and reached into the back of his underwear drawer, and retrieved the item he had placed there several days ago. He unzipped not one, not two, but three airtight freezer bags, each placed inside the other. After peeling off each plastic bag, Blair chuckled as he triumphantly pulled out that same brown paper bag that he had brought home several days ago. 

Jim, being an honorable guy, kept his eyes closed, but, hey, those other Sentinel senses worked just fine. He heard the sounds of Blair rummaging with the plastic bags. He heard the paper bag rustle. But what was in the sack had Jim puzzled. It was the same exotic scent from the other day, in the truck. Jim's nose worked hard to catalog the smell. Something musky, animalistic, unusual. He liked it. He heard Blair merrily chuckling under his breath, apparently quite pleased with "whatever", and what he was doing or going to do with it. Well, exactly what was it? It was a square foot of some of the softest, most luxurious and sensuous material known to man--a piece of fur--mink, to be exact. 

Now Blair Sandburg, with his ecological sensibilities, would be the last person to own fur. And how did he come to possess his piece of mink? It all came about a few days back when he had to stop at the bank, and since his car was in the repair shop, he had asked Jim come to pick him up. He had a half an hour to kill before Jim could get free to get him, so he went around the corner from the bank, and down the block to his favorite retro and vintage clothing store. 

He had spotted a blue and black silk shirt from the fifties with the name "Sid's Bowling Alley, Portland, Oregon" emblazoned on the back, and decided to buy said object. He took the shirt to the counter at the front of the store to check out. While he was waiting behind a woman and a young girl who were purchasing several items, young girl noticed the fur coat in a trash bag next to the counter. The owner of the store, who was running the cash register, noticed the girl's interest, and watched her run her hands over the soft fur. 

The owner commented to the girl. "Doesn't it feel wonderful?" 

The girl replied, "Oh, yes, what is it?" 

"Its called mink. It's made from animal fur. It's old, probably from the twenties and not any good. It's torn and moth eaten. I'm going to throw it away. Besides, these days, a lot of people don't like wearing furs because of endangered animals and conservation." 

The young girl nodded and continued to stroke the mink. The storeowner came out from around the corner with a pair of scissors in her hand, and cut a square of the fur. The proprietor looked at the child's mother. 

"If it's okay with you, I'll give her this. I figure the animals have been dead for more than 75 years, and besides, if she enjoys it, it's like recycling. At least there will be some use for it." The mother gave her approval, and she and the little girl went off happily with their acquisitions. 

When Blair checked out, he battled with himself. He was dying to have a piece. He knew just what to do with it. Should he, or shouldn't he? Well, it was kind of like recycling. The minks had been dead for three-quarters of a century, long before he was born, and at a time when fur was more acceptable. And he wasn't contributing to the fur industry if she gave him a piece, so he couldn't resist. He asked and she smiled, cutting his a large square. The woman watched Blair's face as he stroked the piece of mink. If Blair had been the Blair of five or six months ago, he would have seen her signals of sexual interest that she was sending out to him loud and clear. She saw the way he stroked the fur, and it brought her heart to her throat. She was aroused just watching him. He was absolutely beautiful. 

But this Blair, Jim's Blair, missed every signal she threw at him. He paid for his shirt, took his fur, gave her a dazzling Sandburg smile, and headed out of the store, to wait for Jim. 

Okay, back to Jim and Blair in the loft. So, then just what did Blair do with that swatch of mink? Let's see. He had one extremely sexy, gloriously naked Sentinel at his disposal. He had one square of a substance guaranteed to drive said Sentinel's senses through the roof. Blair knew exactly what to do with both. After all, he was the Guide, and it was his job to take care of the Sentinel. And so he did. 

When Blair Sandburg was finished with Jim Ellison, Blair thought Jim had found religion, because Jim kept praying. He must have been praying, because he said "Oh, God" at least a couple of hundred times. Three orgasms will do that to a guy, you know. 

Blair took that piece of mink, along with whatever else he had at hand (and mouth, and fingers), and started at Jim's toes. Jim had his first orgasm before Blair got to his knees. Jim moaned and Blair laughed. Jim moaned a lot, actually. He had the second one when Blair ran that piece of mink over his dick. And the third? On his ears. Blair had no idea he could give Jim an orgasm by tickling his ears with a piece of fur. He felt like Columbus discovering new worlds. Oh, wait. Blair wasn't quite through yet. 

When Blair managed to turn the lump of Jim Ellison over onto his stomach, he had that fourth one as Blair ran that piece of animal fur, along with those other things, over, under, around, and into every square inch of Jim's willing body. 

And Blair? He was so pleased with himself he could hardly stand it. All because of a touch of mink. And what went through Jim's gratified mind when Blair finally let him catch his breath and he was able to think? Always, always listen to his Guide. 

Jim was lying on his stomach, almost asleep. Blair slid into bed, lying on his back, snuggling up to Jim as close as he could. They still had two and a half days' leave to go, and Blair planned on spending it in bed, with Jim, of course, barring short stints to eat and shower. Blair ran his hand up behind his neck, pulling his hair to the opposite side away from Jim's face. He liked feeling Jim's warm breath on his neck and ear. It made him feel safe, and it tickled, too. 

Jim laid his arm across Blair's chest, and sighed contentedly. 

"Blair?" He whispered into Blair's ear. 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't have the energy right now, but later, I will have to retaliate, you know. Honor demands it." 

"Jim, don't you mean reciprocate?" Blair smiled. 

"No, I mean retaliate. You are in major trouble now." 

Blair grinned. Now he was really happy, and Jim's warm breath on his ear gave him good bumps. No one could reciprocate, er, retaliate like Jim. Blair never had any idea before that Jim was such an inventive guy, and now he really had something to look forward to. In a few minutes, he was drifting off to sleep, happily thinking about retaliation, and Jim, and being safe, and belonging, and.... 

"Blair?" 

"Hummm." 

"I love you." 

"Jim, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It makes me happy to make you happy." 

"No, Blair, not because of the sex, you curly-headed idiot. For a smart guy who can speak 48 languages, and has an IQ of 350, you can be pretty stupid sometimes." 

Blair turned his head, his breath and Jim's mingling on the pillow, their noses just inches apart. "Jim, say it again." He whispered for Sentinel ears. 

And so Jim did. "I love you, Blair Sandburg." 

And Blair answered in a very surprised voice. "Oh!" Jim had never actually told him he loved him before. Blair had no doubts that Jim did love him, but hearing the actual words took his breath away. Jim chuckled softly; he just loved it when he put Blair at a loss for words, and went to sleep. Blair lay awake for a few more minutes happily thinking about retaliation, and Jim, and being safe, and belonging, and ...being loved. 

When Jim woke several hours later, he felt wonderful. He opened his eyes and stretched every muscle and tendon several times, and sighed, not even attempting to get out of the warm bed. Wait, the warm, empty bed. He stopped and listened. He located Blair on the first floor, and his nose was tickled with the scent of pancakes and warm maple syrup. Food. Good. Just what he needed. 

He started to get up when he happened to spy a small square of paper on the pillow next to him. What was this, a note? It was from, guess who! Blair, of course. This was a first. And what did it say, exactly? The handwriting was not Blair's usual bold script, but kind of small, and printed in block letters. I love you, too. Jim smiled. He sensed that Blair was actually reticent about the whole thing. Hey, score two for Jim Ellison. He made Blair speechless and shy in one twenty-four hour period--two very un-Blair-like things. He threw on his robe, and headed down the stairs. Blair was at the stove, cooking. He looked as good as the food. Jim crossed the room and went to stand behind his lover, sliding his arms around Blair's waist, and nuzzling his hair. He always smelled so good. 

"Good morning, or afternoon, or whatever." Jim said, the words muffled by his mouth that was pressed against the back of Blair's head. 

"You hungry?" Blair smiled over his shoulder at Jim. 

"I'm starving. Did we forget to eat yesterday?" 

Blair laughed. "Yeah, I think we had a meal once yesterday. I'm hungry, too. And it's ready. So's the coffee, and there's fresh orange juice," 

"I do love you." Jim gave him a hug. 

"Admit it, Jim, you love food, and anyone who feeds you. You're like a stray puppy." Blair informed Jim. 

Jim chuckled. "Well, I love food and you. How about that?" 

Blair grinned as he looked at his lover. "I can live with that. You're okay, too, for a cop." 

And so they ate. And did the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen. Then, later on, Jim retaliated. Man, did he ever. Much to Blair's delight. 

* * *

End A Touch of Mink by LilyK: chakbalam@netscape.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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